On April 16, 2010, Roger Ebert boldly argued on his blog on the Chicago Sun-Times website that “in principle, video games can never be art.” The main reasoning for his argument is that video games are not worthy of comparison to the great poets, filmmakers, novelists, painters, composers, and so on. Ebert also brings up a TED talk given at USC by Kellee Santiago, a designer and producer of video games. Santiago argues that video games reside more at the chicken-scratch-on-cave-walls end of the spectrum of art, opposite of Michelangelo's ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. From this, Ebert simply says that video games will not evolve. [1]
Playing off of Roger Ebert's love of cinema, I would like to consider Level-5's gorgeous video game called Ni no Kuni: Shiroki Seihai no Joō(“Second Country: The Queen of White Sacred Ash”).
Undoubtedly, we recognize the animation of Studio Ghibli, famous for the greatly loved Hayao Miyazki films such as Spirited Away, Howl's Moving Castle, My Neighbor Totoro, etc. We easily call those animated films works of art, and we admire them. If we took the same trailer forNi no Kuniand made a movie out of it, we'd be accept it as an animated film just as the others. If we took a screencap of the trailer – or even concept art! – we can admire the animation the same way we would admire works of illustrators and graphic designers. Perhaps it's the same elitism that says computer-generated media or comic books can't be art that says video games can't be art. Why limit the justifiable mediums? Is clay sculpture not as important as marble? Is oil more critical as pastel? No, they are all viewed equally. There are levels of quality for all.
In Jack Kroll's article in Newsweek from March of 2000, he argues that “games can be fun and rewarding in many ways, but they can't transmit the emotional complexity that is the root of art.” [2]
For the emotional appeal, let's examine Sony Computer Entertainment's PS2 game from 2001, Ico, designed and directed by Fumito Ueda.
(Pardon the poor quality.)
In this game, the player assumes the role of Ico, a young boy born with horns whom his village considers a bad omen, locking him away in a seemingly abandoned fortress. In the fortress, he meets Yorda, the daughter of the castle's Queen. The Queen plans to use Yorda's body to extend her own lifespan, which prompts Ico to escape the castle with Yorda. [3] At 0:49 is a snippet of Ico tugging Yorda haplessly along, at 1:32 we see Ico climbing up a chain as Yorda gazes up from the bottom, at 1:42, we watch the two run towards a huge set of doors which are slightly ajar, and at 2:01 we see Yorda staring up at a window, which comes immediately after a pan of a menacing birdcage in an isolated room. Even though it's the tired story of boy meets girl, all of these shots evoke feelings of hope for the two's escape, and, paired with the music, it tugs at the player's heartstrings.
Why, then, can't video games be considered works of art? They can possess both the design aspect and the element of emotional evocation. Sometimes the two are in unison, while other times not -- but they have the potential to be, at the very least. However, Ebert steadfastly argues that video games cannot evolve. Perhaps saying that we “play” video games seems so juvenile that it devalues the art and emotion. However, there is still design, there is still plot, and we are still immersed within the media. The only difference is that video games are directly interactive; we are in quasi-control of the characters (quasi- because we can't always make the characters obey our every whim, no matter how badly you want to make Sam Fisher dump the KO'd guards over the railing of the Cozumel cruise ship).
P.S. I asked my friend Andrew Kirby for his two cents on this because he is more of an avid gamer and definitely a better writer than I am. His piece focuses on the emotional aspect of video games as art on a personal level, and it can be found here.
Overview
On April 16, 2010, Roger Ebert boldly argued on his blog on the Chicago Sun-Times website that “in principle, video games can never be art.” The main reasoning for his argument is that video games are not worthy of comparison to the great poets, filmmakers, novelists, painters, composers, and so on. Ebert also brings up a TED talk given at USC by Kellee Santiago, a designer and producer of video games. Santiago argues that video games reside more at the chicken-scratch-on-cave-walls end of the spectrum of art, opposite of Michelangelo's ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. From this, Ebert simply says that video games will not evolve. [1]
Playing off of Roger Ebert's love of cinema, I would like to consider Level-5's gorgeous video game called Ni no Kuni: Shiroki Seihai no Joō (“Second Country: The Queen of White Sacred Ash”).
Undoubtedly, we recognize the animation of Studio Ghibli, famous for the greatly loved Hayao Miyazki films such as Spirited Away, Howl's Moving Castle, My Neighbor Totoro, etc. We easily call those animated films works of art, and we admire them. If we took the same trailer for Ni no Kuni and made a movie out of it, we'd be accept it as an animated film just as the others. If we took a screencap of the trailer – or even concept art! – we can admire the animation the same way we would admire works of illustrators and graphic designers. Perhaps it's the same elitism that says computer-generated media or comic books can't be art that says video games can't be art. Why limit the justifiable mediums? Is clay sculpture not as important as marble? Is oil more critical as pastel? No, they are all viewed equally. There are levels of quality for all.
In Jack Kroll's article in Newsweek from March of 2000, he argues that “games can be fun and rewarding in many ways, but they can't transmit the emotional complexity that is the root of art.” [2]
For the emotional appeal, let's examine Sony Computer Entertainment's PS2 game from 2001, Ico, designed and directed by Fumito Ueda.
(Pardon the poor quality.)
In this game, the player assumes the role of Ico, a young boy born with horns whom his village considers a bad omen, locking him away in a seemingly abandoned fortress. In the fortress, he meets Yorda, the daughter of the castle's Queen. The Queen plans to use Yorda's body to extend her own lifespan, which prompts Ico to escape the castle with Yorda. [3] At 0:49 is a snippet of Ico tugging Yorda haplessly along, at 1:32 we see Ico climbing up a chain as Yorda gazes up from the bottom, at 1:42, we watch the two run towards a huge set of doors which are slightly ajar, and at 2:01 we see Yorda staring up at a window, which comes immediately after a pan of a menacing birdcage in an isolated room. Even though it's the tired story of boy meets girl, all of these shots evoke feelings of hope for the two's escape, and, paired with the music, it tugs at the player's heartstrings.
Why, then, can't video games be considered works of art? They can possess both the design aspect and the element of emotional evocation. Sometimes the two are in unison, while other times not -- but they have the potential to be, at the very least. However, Ebert steadfastly argues that video games cannot evolve. Perhaps saying that we “play” video games seems so juvenile that it devalues the art and emotion. However, there is still design, there is still plot, and we are still immersed within the media. The only difference is that video games are directly interactive; we are in quasi-control of the characters (quasi- because we can't always make the characters obey our every whim, no matter how badly you want to make Sam Fisher dump the KO'd guards over the railing of the Cozumel cruise ship).
P.S. I asked my friend Andrew Kirby for his two cents on this because he is more of an avid gamer and definitely a better writer than I am. His piece focuses on the emotional aspect of video games as art on a personal level, and it can be found here.
[1] http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/2010/04/video_games_can_never_be_art.html
[2] http://www.newsweek.com/2000/03/05/emotion-engine-i-don-t-think-so.html
[3] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ico
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